


And We, Only Players

by Araine



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fiction within fiction, Loki's Play, Post-Credits Schmost-Credits, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), What Infinity War Trailer?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 04:51:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13092774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araine/pseuds/Araine
Summary: While Sif was banished and Loki was king, the God of Mischief indulged his artistic sensibilities. With Sif un-banished and Loki un-kinged, the play holds certain revelations.





	And We, Only Players

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lizardbeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardbeth/gifts).



> Loki's play was delightfully over the top and reignited all my Loki/Sif feels, so I wrote about it. Thor: Ragnarok spoilers, not post-credits or Infinity War compliant (sorry not sorry).

Sif was not fully sure what she was doing here, on the upper decks of this strange ship that constituted ‘home’. Or rather she knew what she was doing-- sitting still for some number of hours and watching a play-- but she had not the slimmest idea of why she was doing it. Her own emotions were so many and so ruinous and in the grand scheme of all that had happened of late such frivolous distractions seemed so unnecessary. 

And it was highly disconcerting, seeing her mirror drift onto the corrugated metal stage carrying a flimsily put together sword and shield. She could not shake the feeling that this should be performed in a beautiful garden and not with the constant hum of hyperspace engines in the background.

The rest of Asgard did not seem to share Sif’s discomfort. The mood around the stage was jovial and anticipatory of distraction from their current circumstances with something familiar from their lost home. Sif could appreciate that and, seated visibly in a place of honor at the side of Thor and Loki and Heimdall and the Valkyrie, it was only the weight of Asgard’s opinions that kept her from walking out.

On stage, the Lady Sif began soliloquizing about how even her prowess as a warrior had not managed to catch the eye of Thor Odinson. 

Sif turned to the subject of the play and alleged playwright on her left and whispered, “How much of this, exactly, did you write?” 

The recently not-so-deceased-as-he-claimed Loki turned his head away from the maudlin actress on stage and whispered back, “Only a few suggestions for lines, really, hardly any of it at all.” 

“Hm,” Sif said. She did not believe for a second Loki’s demurring as his deeply pleased grin betrayed otherside. Sif pursed her lips a moment, considering her next words, and then said, “I thought this play was supposed to be ‘The Tragedy of Loki Odinson’, not ‘Let’s Spread Rumors of Sif’s Love Life.’”

“All Asgard knows the tragedy of the Lady Sif’s long suffering love for our beloved king.”

“All Asgard is _stupid_ then.”

Loki’s smirk was sudden but delighted, almost as if he had not meant to give it. He quickly settled back to a pleased-with-his-own-cleverness grin. “Stay your harsh opinions until you’ve seen the whole piece,” he advised. “It’s all a part of a larger character arc.”

Sif scowled. “I shall air what criticisms I like,” she muttered but for the moment she sat back in her chair, determined to at least see the thing through. Since the actress on stage had finished her weepy display, this was much easier. 

The action on stage moved on, the Loki on stage moving onto his own soliloquizing about how he had long been overlooked by all Asgard but, assuring a rapturous audience, he had so much to give if only Asgard would give him a chance to prove himself. Sif, rolling her eyes, saw that Loki was looking entirely too pleased with himself.

She elbowed him. “You’re sure you didn’t write this, then?” she asked. 

“Would I lie to you, my lady?”

Sif did not dignify this with a response. 

Thor came out then, with a speech about how he was born to be king but only wished to live his life fighting in glorious battle. For all that Loki’s touch was all over this play, the portrayal was rather sympathetic. Sif wondered if this was because Asgard, on the whole, had always looked fondly on Odin’s eldest son-- and then decided that this was uncharitable. 

Loki, for all his many faults, loved his brother. It made sense that he would portray him well in a play he was never meant to see. 

The chorus sang about their adventuring and feats in battle and Sif’s counterpart returned to the stage, along with actors dressed as the Warrior’s Three. This was accompanied by its own pain, not in mortification but instead in fresh grief. She’d known that they appeared in the play but had not anticipated that it would hurt quite so much. 

Sif would not adventure with her friends again, and watching their exaggerated heroics on stage she was reminded of the camaraderie they shared in life. They were in the halls reserved for the greatest of warriors now, feasting and telling stories, and one day she would see them again but not yet. 

The cold touch of a hand on her wrist startled her. She whipped her head around, only to meet Loki’s concerned gaze. Sif realized, with a tightening in her chest, that her eyes were hot with unshed tears. 

“They quite enjoyed the play,” he said quietly, and at least he was no longer smirking, too-pleased. “For what it’s worth.” 

Sif said nothing. Had Loki-as-Odin not sent her away when he suspicions grew too high she would have seen and laughed at this play with her friends-- and she would have been there to die with them. For the sake of Asgard in exile she had put aside her churning feelings towards Loki-- but she knew they were not yet settled. 

Loki waved his fingers and Sif felt the familiar tingle of a glamour settling over her. Gratefully, she wiped her tears away from the eyes of all Asgard. 

The play moved on, detailing adventures that to Sif’s knowledge had never happened but that certainly captured the spirit of the real truth. If Fandral and Volstagg and Hogun had enjoyed this silly play then Sif was determined to enjoy it in their stead. And it did have a certain rollicking energy, she found, a dramatic flair that kept things entertaining even when it was deeply ridiculous. Every fight was won by Thor or one of his warriors but always seemed to be decided by Loki’s behind the scenes aid. 

Sif was surprised, after the very theatrical death of a troll queen, to find her counterpart alone onstage with Loki. He confronted her, teasing her about her oh-so-obvious love for Thor (as if that was the only reason a woman might spend time with a man), the type of conversation that in reality had on occasion ended with Sif’s blood rising at the challenge and the both of them ending up in bed together, if only to prove Loki’s suspicions deeply wrong.

Instead of rolling her eyes, saying, “I have not sworn to Thor, nor to any man”, and indulging herself with Asgard’s second prince, the warrior onstage got wistful and declared her deep sadness that the man she had set her eye on had never looked her way. Sif was about to lean over to ask Loki whether this was going to be her only character trait when the Loki on stage brought her up short. 

“Your eyes only look forward, my lady,” asked the actor, achingly sincere, holding his counterpart by the hand, “You do not see who is truly at your side, one who may already love you.” 

This segued into an admittedly funny bit about how good a lookout Sif was with her forward looking eyes, but she barely heard it, puzzled by what was playing out on stage. Was the play suggesting that Loki was in love with her? 

Cautiously, she chanced a glance at Loki. His gaze met hers guiltily, before flickering away. Sif, suddenly very conscious of how close their hands were, pulled her arm into her lap. 

Several seats down, Sif caught the Valkyrie grinning knowingly at her and whispering something to Thor. Sif steadfastly turned her eyes back to the play. 

The play, as it seemed wont to do, moved on, now to more familiar territory and Sif dismissed her notion that the fictional Loki was supposed to be in love with the fictional Sif. It seemed more of a piece with the self-aggrandizement that characterized the whole play. The chorus informed all listening that Thor’s coronation approached. A great deal more soliloquizing followed (Thor about how he wished to fight more monsters and not be king, Loki conflicted about whether or not Thor should be king, and Sif - bizarrely enough - about whether her feelings were just because they were what Asgard expected, which was closer to the truth than anything that had shown up on stage before.) 

Thor’s coronation was interrupted by agents from Jotunheimr, as all Asgard remembered, although the starring character’s participation in those events was utterly glossed over. Rather, Sif thought as on stage Thor and Loki debated whether or not to go to Jotunheim, the whole thing was played to make Loki seem both heroic and reasonable. 

The scene in which Loki found out about his true parentage was actually rather effective, if only because the actor took his chance to dig deeply into the pathos of the scene. Sif stole a glance at Loki and found his jaw tight and fingers clenched around the arm of his chair-- and a glowing triumph in his eyes. 

Thor’s subsequent banishment seemed more a jaunt to earth-- implying in the subtext that he feared actually ruling Asgard in Odin’s stead-- and as he exited stage Sif found herself on stage with Loki once again. 

“Do you mean to follow my erstwhile brother, lady?” the Loki on stage asked. “Whose countenance has so captured your steadfast heart.” 

“I have sworn him my sword and shield and heart in kind. I will follow whither he walks.”

“A path that hath brought only pain. Can you not see that there might be another path?”

“I know not what path you speak, my lord.” 

And Loki, on stage and in front of all Asgard, kissed the Lady Sif on the mouth. 

In the audience the real Sif stared open mouthed, as her counterpart ran off stage to follow her and Loki in-- rage? Jealousy? Prepared for the confrontation with Thor that would culminate in the breaking of the Bifrost. 

“Loki,” Sif said, very low under her breath, “Just how much of this play did you write again?” 

“Only a few suggestions for lines,” Loki whispered back, looking appropriately nervous considering the circumstances. “And I told the playwright to take that bit out.”

“Silvertongue,” Sif murmured, “This has your fingerprints all over it.” 

Loki looked away from Sif’s steady gaze. 

Sif leaned back in her seat. “Keep your silence then, but I shall not forget it.” 

Loki’s gaze flickered back to her, but he did not say anything, and on stage the action moved on. Sif found herself watching in a half-daze, still reeling from what she had witnessed. Loki’s inevitable confrontation with Thor did not bring up the kiss-- rather, it hovered in the background as onstage Loki spoke of being constantly overlooked and Thor rebuffed him. 

Sif, as promised, had not forgotten it and she mulled it over in her mind even as the Aether appeared on Midgard and Thor brought Loki back to Asgard, combining what in reality were several trips into one. Was the kiss truly the playwright’s choice, then? Sif wondered, fidgeting with the hem of her tunic. It was certainly a dramatic choice, reinforcing the running theme of Loki being overlooked by all Asgard by putting that on one character and adding a love triangle no less. Her maudlin love for Thor was irritating but at least based in what most of Asgard believed to be reality and it made a certain sense that Loki, who was covetous of all his brother had, might desire that too. 

Only Sif had never been immune to him, and there were some nights when she wondered what he might say and what she might say in return. Drunk on wine and revelry in the aftermath of battle, or finding themselves kindred spirits on the edges of Asgardian society-- 

He had not objected to all of Asgard thinking him in love with her while he was dead and she was banished. It was only after that he had asked the playwright to excise it. 

In all of their trysts Sif had never imagined Loki in love with her, and yet for the life of her she could not remember him with anyone else. Sif had before imagined Loki in love, and she had imagined that he might secret it away from all the world, or else declare it grandly and with bombastic flair. Somehow, he had managed both. 

“Foolish man,” she murmured. 

The love triangle seemed to be forgotten in favor of the threat of the Aether. Jane, Thor’s mortal love, was reduced to a device of plot and largely forgotten, the gravest departure from reality in Sif’s eyes. Sif and the Warrior’s Three joined Thor and Loki and Jane on their fateful quest to Svartalfheim. Sif on stage had one last chance to speak to Loki, and just about said that were it not for her great love for Thor she would return Loki’s affections. Then the battle with Malekith and Loki sacrificing his life to end it, and Sif ran tearfully offstage to tell Asgard as Loki died in his brother’s arms. The whole thing ended with Sif and Thor, clinging to one another, mourning that they should have loved Loki better in life. 

The entire makeshift theater on board the space ship erupted into applause. Sif, turning to her left, found that Loki had outright vanished from his seat sometime before the end of the play. Well, unluckily for him, there were only so many places to hide on board this ship. 

“That was certainly… enlightening,” Thor said to her, having come over from his own seat. 

“Thor,” Sif said warningly, “another word and I deck you. Where has your brother gotten to?”

“You know his hiding places as well as I,” Thor said. Then he grinned incorrigibly and said, “Good luck.” 

“I have no idea what you mean,” Sif said, even as the Valkyrie caught her eye, winked, and made a crude gesture that… more or less implied what was going to happen on the upper decks of this ship. 

Sif turned on her heel and left. 

She found Loki in his bunk, reading a book and looking artfully bored. He raised an eyebrow when Sif opened his door without knocking, which only confirmed her suspicion that he had known she would be coming and waited her out here. 

“You missed the end of the play,” she said. 

Loki waved his book at her. “I’ve seen it before, and besides I needed to catch up on my reading. Have you lost all your manners, or do you always enter a room without knocking?” 

“Manners seem to have slipped my mind. That was a very… enlightening play.”

“What did you think of it then?” Loki’s gaze elided hers, as if afraid of what her reaction would be. 

“Absolute garbage. I think the playwright needs to stop self-aggrandizing, and it had no bearing in reality.” 

“Tell that to him, then,” Loki said acidly. 

“Loki,” Sif said. 

“Listen, my lady, I really am quite busy, so if you would excuse me--”

“ _Loki._ ”

He looked up and away from his book, full of hope and so desperately vulnerable that it melted all of Sif’s acidity. She had not forgotten all the things he had done, only that look blunted the edge of them somewhat. 

“I think the blind one is you, Silvertongue, so wrapped up in the lies you tell yourself,” Sif said, purposefully echoing the play. She saw Loki’s throat work, his eyes tracking her as she rounded the cot and stood over him and leaned down. Sif brushed her lips with his and whispered, “You should have told me.”

Loki shuddered under her touch. “Perhaps.” 

Sif kissed him again, harder, her teeth scraping his. “I can think of a few ways for you to apologize.” 

“Sif,” Loki said, “People will talk.”

Sif rolled her eyes. “You put us on stage in front of all Asgard. I guarantee you, they’re talking.” 

Loki grinned, too-pleased with himself. “I thought you hated the play.” 

“Hmm,” Sif considered, playing absently with the collar of Loki’s shirt. “I liked the dialogue. Whoever wrote it must have had a clever tongue.” 

Loki grinned, and kissed Sif, and proceeded to put his clever tongue to very good use.


End file.
